The Comfort in Those Past
by Schultzo
Summary: Moaning Myrtle is helping Draco Malfoy deal with the pressure from his father and from the task he has been assigned by the Dark Lord. Draco learns how to accept himself and break free from his troubled past. This story is set at Hogwarts during Draco's sixth year. Content warning for self-injury.


**- Content Warning for Self Injury - **

The Comfort in Those Past

Chapter One ~

Following N.E.W.T. potions, Draco was feeling more devastated than usual. That Potter boy had outdone him again. He wished that Snape was still the potions teacher; he could always rely on Snape to make Potter miserable. It was nice to see someone else have to suffer -even just a little bit because it made him feel less alone in his pain. As he wandered through the crowded hall, destructive thoughts began to build up in his head. Even Snape couldn't be trusted anymore Draco reflected grimly. Snape kept giving him detention, but Draco refused to go, knowing Snape wouldn't dare take this matter to Dumbledore. Snape was aware of the mission the Dark Lord had given the boy, and he wouldn't dare interfere. However, Snape was relentless in trying to help Draco, as if he were making a point at how much more capable he were. Draco knew that Snape was desperate to please the Dark Lord, which was part of the reason why he wouldn't accept Snape's help. If Draco let Snape get involved, Draco would look incompetent in completing the task specifically assigned to him alone. Draco knew appearing weak before the Dark Lord would surely mean death, making him feel all the more anxious in regards to the task.

However, he still wasn't any closer to completion. Draco Malfoy was scared. And he was alone in his suffering. As he shuffled through the thinning crowd in the corridor, he felt anguish pool in the pit of his stomach. As the feeling grew, he knew he was loosing control. With relief, realized he was nearing Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He pulled the hood of his robe up over his blond hair and discreetly veered towards the girls washroom. He knew the bathroom would be empty, but he still felt conscience about being seen going into a girls washroom. Malfoys had a certain reputation to uphold.

He nervously crossed the room and slipped into one of the stalls, locking the bolt behind him for good measure. He swung his shoulder bag around and began digging inside it to find his release. Draco's breathing quickened and his hands trembled slightly as he withdrew his silver potions knife. The pressure of the Dark Lord's task weighed heavily upon his mind. Potter was already onto him, and even though there was no way Potter could trace the cursed necklace back to him, Draco felt time mounting up against him. Draco's eyes began to glisten with tears as he rocked back and forth on his heels in the small stall. He angrily wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. His breathing was ragged and shallow, and his heart pounded loudly in the quiet room.

Draco shakily folded his fist around the handle of his knife and pulled up his left sleeve. He grasped the knife tightly as he brought the point of it down to balance against the tender flesh of his inner wrist. He stood very still and tried to calm his breathing, all while toying with the tip of the blade lightly against his wrist. He focused on tracing the blue veins visible through his pale skin with the blade, never pushing hard enough to actually draw blood. His eyes stared intently at the sight of the knife against his wrist. Slowly he closed his eyes and shakily exhaled.

He turned his arm so the edge of the blade lay against the top go his forearm. He pushed the knife down, softly at first, then harder as he hissed in pain. His whole body was tense and he whimpered as waves of pain overtook his thoughts. Tears snaked down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. Bracing himself, he slid the blade across his arm, slicing open a long cut. The effect was instantaneous as the overwhelming anxiety and worry in his mind vanished. He watched in a sick fascination as his blood seeped from the self inflicted wound. The control he had over his emotions with a simple knife was fantastic. The tension in Draco's muscles dissipated and was overrun by a throbbing sensation stemming from his forearm. Physical pain was something he could deal with. He took a few deep breaths to find that he was mostly already calmed.

"Are you okay?" Draco's heart leapt and he quickly whirled around, clenching the knife in his hand. He was half relieved to see Moaning Myrtle's head peering out of the toilet. At least he assumed the ghost was Moaning Myrtle; he had never actually encountered her before. Startled from her sudden appearance, Draco didn't know what to say. However, Moaning Myrtle continued talking, her big eyes magnified by large wire rimmed glasses.

"Oh? You're a boy. You know this is a girls bathroom don't you?" Moaning Myrtle asked incredulously, narrowing her eyes at him. Draco just stared at her wild-eyed. Moaning Myrtle came out if the toilet to float just in front of Draco. He curled away from her, feeling uncomfortable with her so close. It was then that Moaning Myrtle noticed the silent tears that stained his pale cheeks. She instantly softened her expression and looked at Draco sympathetically. Her eyes trailed down to the knife in his hand, and then to the blood running down his arm. She stared, transfixed by the sight of wound. Draco finally snapped into reality, hurriedly pulling his sleeve down and stuffing the knife into his bag. He turned wordlessly away from Moaning Myrtle and fled the stall as she called after him, begging him to stay. Draco's cheeks surged with heat, deeply ashamed of what he'd been caught doing. He stormed towards he door desperate to escape, when Moaning Myrtle called out after him, "I'll tell them about your arm!"

Draco froze. "No," he whispered, staring at the floor, "The headmaster will tell my father, and father...he'll.." Draco trailed off as his shoulders shook violently. He steadied himself against one of the sinks. "You can't," Draco insisted quietly, "No. No. No. Please, not that..." Draco hung his head as Moaning Myrtle glided behind him and placed her hand gingerly on his shoulder.

"I won't tell anyone. Just tell me what's wrong; you can trust me," crooned Moaning Myrtle, ''I could help you." Draco felt his throat seize up and, not trusting himself to talk without his voice wavering, remained silent. Moaning Myrtle wrapped her arms tenderly around his waist as Draco started sobbing, tears once again trickling down his face. Moaning Myrtle's cold presence made Draco shiver, but it wasn't unwelcome; he found it somewhat comforting to have someone care about him. It had been along time since someone other than his mother had genuinely wanted to help him, and he found himself crying harder as he realized how emotionally isolated he really was. He stood as still as he could as the dull pain in his arm gave him something to focus on, helping him calm down.

Draco finally stepped away from the sink, passing through Moaning Myrtle as he did. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and pulled his hood further forward, hiding his swollen eyes. Moaning Myrtle moved at first as if to follow him, then stopped, realizing that he probably needed time to process their recent exchange and become comfortable with her having seen him cut himself. Draco paused at the doorway, and somewhat awkwardly turned back and mumbled, "Thanks," before ducking out of the girls bathroom. He felt a little spark of warmth in his stomach as he hurried down the corridor, feeling better than he had in ages. Back in the bathroom, Moaning Myrtle smiled to herself as she floated over to her toilet and dove into it. Settling in the plumbing, she sighed happily to herself.


End file.
